Noticing the birds destroying his fruit and injuring his plants, he went for a double-barreled gun, which he scarcely ever had used, out of regard to the timidity and anxiety of his wife in reference to it. Shortly after he left the house, one of the elders of his church in passing saw him discharge one barrel at the birds. Soon after he heard the fatal report and saw the smoke, but the trees shut out the rest from sight. ... In about half an hour after, the family assembled at breakfast, and the servant was sent out to call him. ... In a few minutes she returned, exclaiming, “Oh, Mr. Beecher is dead! Mr. Beecher is dead! ” . . In a short time a visitor in the family, assisted by a passing laborer, raised him up and bore him to the house. His face was pale and but slightly marred, his eyes were closed, and over his countenance rested the sweet expression of peaceful slumber . ... Then followed the hurried preparations for the funeral and journey, until three o'clock, when, all arrangements being made, he was borne from his newly finished house, through his blooming garden, to the new church, planned and just completed under his directing eye.
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members of his family were obliged to devote themselves to nursing the sick and dying.
July 6, 1843, a few weeks before the birth of her third daughter, Georgiana May, a most terrible and overwhelming sorrow came on Mrs. Stowe, in common with all the family, in the sudden death of her brother, the Rev. George Beecher.
He was a young man of unusual talent and ability, and much loved by his church and congregation.
The circumstances of his death are related in a letter written by Mrs. Stowe, and are as follows:
Houghton, Mifflin and Company, The Riverside Press, Cambridge, 1889.
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